Now that Lila and Karn were experts on magical devices, they’d been called in to offer an opinion on the “weapon” Commander Strangward had brought.
Or maybe the king was just lonely. General Karn was in the field, deploying his forces in the path of a possible attack by Arschel Matelon and his allies. Matelon was on his way to his fortress at White Oaks, calling in his bannermen along the way, getting ready for a fight.
I wonder if my mother knows the consequences of her claiming of Delphi.
Maybe that was the plan all along.
It seemed like he was learning more about his mother at a distance than he ever had at home.
While little Karn made plans with the blackbirds, Lila drifted over to where Ash stood.
“You’re not even tempted?” she asked, nodding at the spread along the wall, a blackbird standing guard at either end.
“I just ate,” Ash said, “and I don’t care for herring.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t,” Ash said, showing his teeth in a smile. “But help yourself if you’re hungry. The king’s not going to touch it, not after it’s been sitting out.”
Apparently, Lila wasn’t hungry, either, because she didn’t chance it.
The king arrived soon after that, with Botetort. The king was well turned out in black and silver, but he looked a bit under the weather. The skin on his cheeks appeared chapped and he repeatedly rubbed his forearms, as if they itched. His hands tremored a bit until he clasped them together on his lap.
Ash bent his knee to the king, then rose, studying his face. “Are you well, Your Majesty?”
“Never better,” the king snapped. “Did you scan the room?”
“I did, and found nothing suspicious,” Ash said.
Greenberry, the chamberlain, appeared at the door. “The principia, Father Fosnaught, is here with the delegation from the Northern Islands, Your Majesty,” he said. “Shall I show them in?”
“By all means,” Montaigne said. “Let’s get this done.”
The first man through the door was massive, broad-shouldered, a mountain of a man. His hair was the color of burnt honey, braided and twisted into locks. He wore a loose linen shirt, tucked into trousers, a baldric and belt over top. He wore his wealth on his wrists and around his neck—a random assortment of gold cuffs and chains and pendants. A light cape was thrown over all, and it seemed to change colors in the light from the torches. No weapons were in evidence—the delegation had been relieved of them outside.
I wonder if the empress is as impressive as her emissary, Ash thought, eyeing him.
There were six of them in all, none of them wearing any kind of uniform. They were dressed in clothing in various colors, of a comfortable style similar to that worn by the emissary. Men and women dressed the same, resembling sailors more than anything else. Their one consistency was that all of them displayed wavelets of tattoos covering their arms. Ash guessed that must be the signia of the empress. Most were fair-skinned, but colored by long hours in the sun, their hair ranging from a shade like bleached linen to corn silk to light brown.
All of the men were clean shaven. Some had longer hair drawn into thick side braids, while others were more closely shorn. Both the men and women wore more jewelry than was fashionable in Arden. Most wore earrings, others bangles or elaborate belt buckles.
What kind of people were they? Ash studied them closely, looking for clues. Fosnaught’s description of them as horse savages or pirates seemed to fit. Not encouraging. Carthian pirates had a ruthless reputation, and they would sail off with Jenna unless Ash could find a way to prevent it.
When the group stood in front of the king, Fosnaught cleared his throat to introduce them, but the Carthian emissary seemed oblivious to protocol. He stepped forward and said, in Common, “I am Teza Von bin Miralla, Sworn Sword of Tarvos. May I present Lord Evan Strangward, Emissary of the Empress Celestine, ruler of the Northern Islands, the Desert Coast, Carthis, Endru, and Anamaya, and True Source of Tarvos.” Standing aside, he gestured toward a young man who had been lost in the pack until then.
“That’s the emissary?” Lila murmured, as if unimpressed.
“Don’t underestimate him,” Ash said, eyes narrowed. “They’re all wizards of some sort, but I’m guessing that he’s by far the most powerful of the lot.”
Though clearly the Carthians were gifted, their auras seemed different from what Ash was used to. Western wizards glowed a cool bluish-white. Strangward’s aura came closest to that. He lit up the entire room with a brilliant white glow. Each time he gripped his amulet, which was often, it was as if the lights dimmed. The other delegates glowed a faint red, like dying coals.